He barks out a laugh, standing up and shoving the sticks into his back pocket. He’s easily a foot shorter than me in this form, but when I’m human, it’s only about six inches. Digging into his front pocket, he pulls out something red that he tosses into his mouth, bringing way too much attention to it. The way his jaw works, showing off how defined it is. Those full, pink lips… My dick twitches in my jeans, and I have to think of something else because there’s no hidingthatthing when it gets hard. Which is why I started getting my pants made a size too small—my dick has a mind of its own when it comes to Leif Hale, and the last thing I need is to get a giant monster hard-on right in front of him. The snug pants keep it contained well enough, but it’s never comfortable. I don’t need him quitting on me over sexual harassment.
“Impossible,” Leif says, his eyes bright with mischief. “I only have two hands.”
He holds them up to show them off, as if I don’t stare at them every chance I get. Who knew tattoos could make hands ten times sexier?
My name is plastered across magazines as the best drummer to have ever existed… because of my advantage. I can play multiple drums at once, more than any other drummer can,because I have so many arms and tentacles, while humans have fewer options.
It’s unfair. I’ll be the first one to say it. And I don’t fucking like it.
It’s not fair to be called the best when no one else compares. It’s like cheating. I’m only better than everyone else because there isn’t anyone else. Bring up some more kraken from the ocean, teach them how to play, and then we can talk.
My name is one of those things in magazines that I ignore. The articles don’t make me happy like I thought they would. But playing does, and that’s all I care about. So, I ignore that and just keep playing.
The way I play? It makes our music different. It’soursound. Unmistakable and unique. It’s us. I just wish the critics and fans would stop comparing me to everyone else. The things humans do with their limited abilities are what should be celebrated, and more than once I wish I’d joined a human band rather than this one. At least then I could show my real talent and not be glorified for my abilities due to limbs I can’t stand. I could show them that I’m just as talented with two arms and two feet. But this is where I ended up, this is where I am, and I don’t hate it. I just want more, I guess.
“Sometimes I wish I only had two hands. These things get in the way.”
All my arms lift about an inch, then drop back down.
He huffs out a laugh. “Good thing you don’t have to wear shirts. Imagine trying to find all the right arm holes.”
I laugh, the sound deep yet almost bubbly, thanks to that weird echo thing.
“You caught me. Why do you think I don’t wear them?”
His grin grows and we stare at each other like dopey idiots for way too long, until he finally says, “Have a good show tonight, Aliko.” But there’s something in his tone. Something slightlysuggestive that makes no sense with what he said. Perhaps he wanted to say something else? Plenty of people get weird when talking to me. Either because I’m a monster, or because I’m famous, I’m not sure, but I do wish people would talk to me normally the way they talk to everyone else. Leif usually does, which is why I’m so confused about this…
“Thanks. See you after?” I say, sounding too hopeful.
“You know it.”
He heads off stage, shoving his hand into his pocket again to pull out more candy. I don’t know what it is he is always eating, but I wish I did. I’d buy him an unlimited supply. They smell like cherry, which is now a scent I relate to him.
I stand there, watching him go, wondering if I’d have more balls to ask him out if I were human.Onlyhuman. Like him. He’s never acted like he was interested in me in any form, though I don’t see him overly flirty with anyone. Not even the hot girls who throw their bras and panties at us. He could be the most professional person on the planet, or maybe he’s just not into anyone. Maybe he’s married but doesn’t wear a ring. That’s a common thing, I hear. Not that it matters. Hooking up with my drum tech is the last thing I should do, especially at the beginning of our first tour. What if things go wrong? Worse. What if they go right? How much of a distraction is that? Nope. It’s bad enough he distracts me now. Imagine if I saw him naked? Imagine if I knew what his cock looked like? Nope. Don’t need that.
Chapter Two
Leif
I stand off to the side, enough to see onto the stage with some of the other crew. Not everyone sticks around to watch the set, but I always do. At least when it comes to The Unbound. There’s something about Aliko Anson that draws me in. I want my eyes on him always. The way he moves, the music he makes, the sound of his voice… I can’t get enough.
I’ve worked for other bands over the years. Smaller ones that went on tour, but nothing on this scale. Their music never pulled me in the way The Unbound’s does.
I came into this position by happenstance, and not because I wanted a part of the first monster rock band to hit the stage. Though I will say that’s pretty fucking awesome, and I’m grateful to be part of it.
I had no idea who The Unbound was when I was asked to take this position. Someone knew someone who knew me. They liked the way I worked and knew I was cool with monsters, and so I got the call. I almost didn’t accept the position when it was offered. What if it didn’t go anywhere? What if they flopped, and I was out of a job before the tour even finished? I didn’t want to risk it, but once I thought about it, I realized thewhat ifoutweighed staying where I was—which was working at a bar, switching between security and stage setup on the nights bands played. It paid enough, but it wasn’t my goal. Problem is, I wasn’t getting enough touring gigs to not have another job, but I didn’t want to sit still and do the same thing over and over again. If I did, I’d be at a desk. What I want is what Aliko Anson has.
Not the fame or the money. Not even the talent, though I wouldn’t be mad about that. I’m a good drummer, but he’s downright fucking amazing.
What I want is the freedom to do whatever I want whenever I want.
Sitting at a desk job won’t give me the kind of flexibility I crave. You get limited vacation time and have to wait for someone to approve any time you want off. And they don’t care how important that time off is to you; all they care about is making sure the work is done, and there’s someone there to do it. A buddy of mine from college once requested time off for his wedding. They denied it. What kind of shit is that?
With this job, I get to travel. I go places, see all sorts of shit, and I get to party with rock stars. Most of my stuff is paid for—hotels, food, travel—and I get paidformy work. I have months off at a time, and because the pay is so good for this tour, I won’t be hurting for cash when I’m not on the road. Meaning I may not have to go back to bartending.
I’ve always taken pride in my work, but I’m more careful these days, really wanting to leave an impression with Aliko. If I spentthe rest of my working days setting up Aliko Anson’s drum kit, I would have zero regrets.
Aliko is living the dream. His face is all over the magazines. He’s constantly getting offers to join other groups and collab on special projects. Of course, he turns them all down because his focus is on The Unbound. Fame isn’t what drives him. It’s not the attention he likes. He cares about the music. That’s what he’s here for. Which could be why he’s a drummer and not a frontman.
